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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284155">you put me on (and said i was your favorite)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishdiadem/pseuds/devilishdiadem'>devilishdiadem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety Attacks, Dancing, F/M, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Good Parent Narcissa Black Malfoy, IWSC | The International Wizarding Schools Championship Writing Challenge, Loss, Loss of children, Miscarriage, Numbness, Originally written and posted on ffnet for the IWSC, PTSD, Pre-Canon, Supportive and loving Lucius and Narcissa, slight trigger warning if you're really sensitive about panic attacks and similar instances</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:08:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29284155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishdiadem/pseuds/devilishdiadem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She's lost a daughter. She's lost a son. She's scared to death she'll lose this one too. Narcissa's barely holding on. Fear of losing a third child, fear of losing her husband, it haunts her. Every moment of every day it haunts her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Stories Written For The IWSC (International Wizarding School Competition)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you put me on (and said i was your favorite)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Trigger warnings: Mention/thoughts of suicide, breakdowns, and intense emotions, I honestly don’t think I was breathing at all when writing the third act.</p><p>Beta credits go to my eldest sister, Katie, and my Huffleclaw bestie Liz</p><p>Title credits go to Taylor Swift; it’s a lyric from Cardigan</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Another morning. Another sunrise. The light shone in through the windows behind the bed, brightening the room. Narcissa hated it. It seemed to mock her, ask her why she was pulling the covers up over her head while the rest of the world was on their feet, starting the new day.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I am still alive.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa blinked at the clock on the wall across from her. There was only four minutes left for her to pretend she didn’t exist. Rising at nine a.m. was one of the only habits she could still commit to. Well, to rephrase, it was one of the only habits she still <em>tried</em> to commit to. She rolled over and looked up at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>Lucius had risen already, starting his day nearly two hours before.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be home early,” he had said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and brushing her hair with gentle fingers before leaving the room. A soft pop of apparition had followed.</p><p> </p><p>Since then, Narcissa had barely moved an inch. She had dozed a bit, but otherwise her gaze wandered from wall to ceiling to wall to window. Birds chirped outside, and once upon a time, Narcissa would have smiled at the sound, but now she only found it loud and tormenting. Were they mocking her too? Distant screeches of the peafowl out in the fields also found her ears, beckoning to the woman who had once been bright and lively, but was now grey and faded.</p><p> </p><p>The clock chimed softly. A soft ticking, growing louder for one, two, three… nine <em>ticks</em> before fading again. Every morning, Narcissa dreaded those fateful ticks, but with a heavy sigh, she sat up, forcing herself to ignore how every bone and muscle protested. She pulled a blanket up to her shoulders, reveling in the momentary sense of warmth it granted her, but it faded just as quickly as it had come.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Take a deep breath. Don’t fight it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She spent her morning the same way she spent all the others. A book in hand as she sat at the windows, her eyes watching the peafowl peck and pluck at the grass under their feet. The sunlight gleaming off their lurid feathers made her blink every few seconds. Or maybe that was the never-ending amount of tears that seemed to haunt her every waking moment.</p><p> </p><p>They were catching in her throat, making breathing all the more difficult. She wished her emotions would stay buried in the box she had for them. The little black one that she stuffed her feelings into every day before locking it up and setting it on the shelf next to her heart. But no. They insisted on bursting out of the box, and they demanded to be heard, causing the tears to make their endless treacherous journey down her face and onto her hands, before seeping into her clothes or the unturned pages of her books.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa couldn’t remember the last time she had pulled an honest smile out of the box. She always had her mask of a smile ready at hand, hanging in a back closet of her mind, ready to be pasted on when necessary.</p><p> </p><p>Living itself took all her energy, all her vitality. The parties and gatherings that demanded her presence, she dreaded them now. The fundraisers for the Orphans Foundation that begged for her company drove daggers into her heart. She found her heart holding cold and steady when she looked at the pictures of the children for whom they were raising money. All these children, having money raised for them, getting to find happy families, getting to go to school someday and make friends, while hers didn’t even get the chance to breathe.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Maybe it’s my fault.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>All the Ministry parties that Lucius had to attend, Narcissa would lift her arm to encircle his. Just like when she lifted the mask to hide her pain. She often wondered how much longer Lucius would continue to pretend to be happy with her. The smiles and comforting words he draped over her like a heavy cardigan were so kind and gentle and authentic that they had to be fake. Was he not growing tired of faking his way through a marriage that would come to no fruition? Why didn’t he just hand her the quill for divorce himself and get it over with? Why was he dragging her on like this? She was of no use to him.</p><p> </p><p>She was constantly braced for Lucius to finally rip the mask away and tell her she was no longer worthy. To push her out of his life without a trace of guilt. It felt as though he left earlier and earlier each morning, if only to get away from the depressing feelings that seeped from her body and into her surroundings.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Why would I be of any worth to him?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maybe if she just… ended it. The thought hadn’t been a stranger since the first miscarriage. She could not bear a child. Her career as a poet, though enjoyable for a time, would not support her once the inevitable divorce came to pass. Would it not be simpler, easier for everyone, if she just… fell away? It would give Lucius the freedom to marry another woman, one able to bear him an heir. It would let the committees bring in another member, one who was alive and had a smile that no donator could disappoint. She already felt like a dead woman walking.</p><p> </p><p>The chilling sensations of sickness once again crept into her bones as she sat at the window. She stood quickly, and with it came the blurred vision and nauseousness. The book she’d been holding in heavy hands, unopened and unread, fell to the floor slowly, dully, sending a heavy echo around the room. Even the house-elves were avoiding her presence. Whether it was out of fear of being harmed, or out of a selfish desire to avoid the gloom that constantly trickled from Narcissa’s fingertips, she didn’t know. But she didn’t care. She didn’t have the energy to reprimand them should the latter be the case.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa kept a hand pressed against the wall as she dazedly made her way to the washroom, her eyes only half open as she tried to swallow the nauseating feeling that had haunted her every step for the last few weeks. Her hand shook, but it kept her standing. Best not fall and ruin the mahogany floors with sickness just because she couldn’t make it to the washroom.</p><p> </p><p>Another chance. Another taunt, another peek at a life she would never have. Why was the world cursing her with this? Had she not lost enough? No doubt she would soon lose this child too, just like she’d lost Lyra and Pavo.</p><p> </p><p>She reached the washroom, her throat burning as she coughed and choked on the disgusting blend of acid, water, and the small bit of toast she had forced herself to eat that morning.</p><p> </p><p>After kneeling on the floor for what felt like hours, Narcissa managed to stand. She was still shaky but at least she felt a little better. She kept her hands on the counter as she turned on the cold water, waiting a minute as she watched it drain away. She finally let her fingers hang underneath the little waterfall, cupping her hand underneath it before lifting it to her face and proceeding to douse her face repeatedly, not caring that her blouse was quickly getting soaked by the overflow. She finally turned off the water before looking into the mirror above the sink. Her skin was so pale that she looked like a ghost, and the bags under her eyes reminded her of just how much she wasn’t sleeping.</p><p> </p><p>She was always exhausted, but every time she closed her eyes at night all she could see were her babies that she would never hold. Every time she tried to relax, her mind would start to fill with thoughts about what color her children’s eyes could’ve been, or what might’ve been their first word.</p><p> </p><p>Those thoughts along with so many others only grew stronger at night, when she was the only one awake, lying in the darkness. She only managed a few hours of sleep per night, and even then it was peppered with the cries of her lost son, or sprinkled with blurred images of a baby girl.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa pulled herself away from the mirror, letting her hands guide her back through the house. Her feet carried her through the hall before halting. There to her left was the room, the one she never wanted to enter but was always forced to, as if by some silent, watchful entity. The room that was filled with a crib, blue and pink baby blankets, feather mobiles that hung from the ceiling, and all the other things Narcissa had bought for her little ones. It was as if the entity was just waiting there with baited breath, painfully reminding her of the memories she felt she would never get to create.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Would she ever get to hear the voice of a child? Her child? Would she ever hear the word “Mama” called through the house?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa forced her feet to continue leading her past the room, pulling the door shut behind her with a snap.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa resumed her position by the window for the rest of the day. An elf visited her once to ask if she needed anything, but Narcissa turned it away with a bitter answer, contrite and harsh even to her own ears.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Is this what my life is doomed to be forever? A waking nightmare, everlasting and inescapable?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Some hours later, Lucius sat down opposite her, startling her. She hadn’t even realized he was home.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey. How are you feeling?” he asked softly.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa didn’t answer. She wanted to scoff at the tenderness etched into every word. Surely it was fake, practiced, something he would lose eventually when he finally grew tired of her.</p><p> </p><p>Lucius took her hand in his. Gentle, warm, comforting. His other hand brushed her chin as he turned her face to meet his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Six months today since we lost Pavo,” he said. He sounded almost sincere. But it was forced, it had to be. “Nearly two since we found out about this one,” he continued.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa opened her mouth, wanting to ask the questions she needed answers to. <em>“Why me? Why </em>my<em> children? Why are you still here? How can you still love me?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Instead, she found herself whispering, “There’s no point in counting. He won’t survive any longer than the others.”</p><p> </p><p>Her tone was icy and clipped, and she flinched as she said the words. But it was the truth.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It won’t end any different than the others, will it?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Cissa,” Lucius breathed. Narcissa forced herself to blink and look at her husband, to really look at him.</p><p> </p><p>His blazing blue eyes were damp and filled with concern, and Narcissa briefly wondered if maybe he was actually concerned about her. But that was a fruitless wonder, wasn’t it? <em>Wasn’t it?</em> She wondered… she was already questioning her existence. Why not question her own mind as well?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe she only believed what the pain allowed her to.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Cissa?”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa jumped ever so slightly. It seemed as though she’d gotten lost in her thoughts again. Lucius seemed to have said her name numerous times.</p><p> </p><p>“Dance with me?” he said, after another minute of silence. The house was so quiet, so dark, that anything louder than a whisper seemed to disturb something sacred.</p><p> </p><p>Why couldn’t she reply? Why did she feel so trapped? It felt like her heart was in a painful cage filled with blades, and anything more than a smile would drive the points into her heart, wrecking her and the careful cocoon in which she had encased herself.</p><p> </p><p>Lucius didn’t require an answer. He took both her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. There was no music to dance to, only the sound of their breathing and the tune of the wind whistling outside.</p><p> </p><p>He led her in a slow circle, and Narcissa couldn’t help but follow the steps. Distant memories of the countless waltzes she had danced in Lucius’s arms were still there, buried under many layers of grief.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember the first time we danced?” Lucius asked softly.</p><p> </p><p>She opened her mouth again, managing a faint whisper. “The ball in my sixth year… the night you said you’d marry me.”</p><p> </p><p>Lucius tightened his hold on her, a quiet affirmation of love that Narcissa couldn’t help but doubt. “We danced longer than anyone else,” he continued. “Telling each other our dreams. Saying we’d be together forever, come whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa’s steps faltered. “That was a long time ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not for me,” Lucius replied. His fingers danced gently over her face as they tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I still love you the same way I did then, Narcissa. If not more because of what we’ve gone through together.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re just saying that,” Narcissa found herself saying. “You — you can’t still feel that way, not anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cissa…” His tone was pained. “Do you truly think so little of me?”</p><p> </p><p>Both their steps had faltered now. Narcissa couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bring herself to see the truth behind the feigned niceties. The cracks were appearing.</p><p> </p><p>But then, Lucius was pulling her into his chest, his heart pounding against her own. “Please don’t let me lose you, Narcissa. I can’t lose you too.”</p><p> </p><p>She gasped and felt her hands start to shake<em>.</em> Tears were filling her eyes. Was she breaking? Hadn’t she already cracked enough? But a second later she was on the floor, cries bursting from her like a dam. She tried to breathe but couldn’t. She felt like she was going to die.</p><p> </p><p>The tears wouldn’t stop coming. It felt like she had lost control over her entire body. What were those screams echoing off the walls? Why did they seem to be coming from her?</p><p> </p><p>And then, suddenly, Lucius was on the floor beside her, pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly as though he’d never let go.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t, I can’t, <em>I can’t</em>… please, make it stop.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got you.” His voice was heavy. His hands tightened around hers, fingers interlocked and woven together.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to go through this again,” she begged. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, <em>I can’t…</em>” The words were spilling from her like a mantra, a plea to the world, to Lucius, to anyone or anything that might be listening. Her heart felt like it was being pierced, the safe shell of ice she had built for herself was thawing. But she didn’t want it to thaw. No, no, <em>no,</em> she couldn’t let it thaw. She needed to be frozen again, she couldn’t live like this. The raw pain bleeding across her skin, the wounds open and infected by the parasites of grief, it would all stay captive in her little box if she could just get it under control.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She was on the floor, her hands clawing at Lucius’s arms that held her tightly. “Please just make it stop,” she begged. She was crumbling, her shattered remains falling down, down, <em>down</em> into the drains, carried by the tears.</p><p> </p><p>She was screaming, and now her hands were pulling Lucius close to her. She needed him.</p><p> </p><p>“I — I can’t… <em>please</em>, I —“</p><p> </p><p>Lucius was holding her. They were on the floor, Lucius trying to hold her pieces together.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, make it stop…” she begged. She still couldn’t breathe. “Please, m-make it… make it…”</p><p> </p><p>Lucius rocked her back and forth. “I’ve got you,” he said. “I’ve got you. I promise. I’m never leaving you, I’m never… never…”</p><p> </p><p>And then <em>he</em> was clutching at <em>her</em>. Narcissa could feel his tears mixing with hers, and his hands buried in her sweater and her hair. They were holding each other like they were each other’s lifeboat. Each other’s lifeboat that was drifting in a distant ocean, one filled with pain and loss and this ingrained sense of fear that felt like it would never leave…</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sc-scared,” she cried. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’ll do if… if we lose this one… I can’t… Lucius, I can’t. Please…<em> help me…</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, I’m always here.”</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa clutched at Lucius as tightly as she could. She was melting, she needed him to hold her, she needed him to… to save her, she needed <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you so much,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I love you, please… <em>please</em> don’t leave me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Never,” he said back. “I’m never leaving you. Come whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t l-lose him, I c-can’t.” She couldn’t survive losing another baby, seeing the blood again, feeling that emptiness again.</p><p> </p><p>“We won’t,” Lucius said. He pulled away just enough so he could cradle her face in his hands. His eyes met hers. <em>“We won’t.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Narcissa breathed. She could breathe. <em>She could breathe.</em> She nodded, biting her lip as the tears kept coming. She stared into her husband’s face, now seeing how much pain they had both been in, but how they’d resigned themselves to suffering alone.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” she whispered.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for saving me. Thank you… for being my everything.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: The names “Lyra” and “Pavo,” the names of the two children Narcissa lost, are named for the constellation Lyra, meaning the lyre or harp, and the constellation Pavo, meaning the peacock.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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